


no opposite in fear

by Vorpal_Sword



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Courage, F/M, Fear, Fix-It, Magic, Parenthood, Power Imbalance, Secrets, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorpal_Sword/pseuds/Vorpal_Sword
Summary: The old troll says, “I recommend we remove all magic, even memories of magic to be safe.”“What?!” Iduna demands, standing up and stumbling backwards to pull Anna away from the hands of this troll who wants to mess with her daughter’s mind.Or, the queen has opinions, and everything changes for the better.
Relationships: Agnarr/Iduna (Disney)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	no opposite in fear

**Author's Note:**

> When one has a four-year-old in one’s life who spends all day asking about the plot of “the Anna and Elsa movie,” and one has therefore spent lots of time thinking about the motivations of each character and why they made the choices they did, and one happens to be inclined towards fanfiction, one will naturally turn towards the interwebs for some kind of outlet. And so, the Frozen fix-it-fic no one asked for but I had to write for my own sanity:

Iduna holds her younger daughter close to her chest, hoping that her own heat will help keep Anna warm. Anna is getting too big to lift easily, but on this night, Iduna finds she had the strength. Unfortunately, it means she cannot spare an arm to comfort her eldest, though she can feel Elsa trembling beside her— and she can definitely feel the chill of Elsa’s localized winter against her shoulder. 

At any other time, Iduna would have been delighted and fascinated to speak with trolls, but now she cannot spare more than a thought to wonder if they are related at all to the Earth Giants who walked the borders of her lost home. 

“Was she born with the powers, or cursed?” the old troll asks, peering at Elsa. Anna shivers and Iduna looks to her face at once, but she is still unconscious. 

“Uh, born,” Agnarr answers, glancing at his daughters. “And they’re growing stronger.” 

The old troll comes closer, muttering. Iduna kneels down, holding Anna out in her arms for his examination. He touches Anna on the forehead, looking at that one blonde lock of hair standing out against the warm flaming red of her daughter’s hair. 

“You are lucky it wasn’t the heart,” he says. “The heart is not so easily changed, but the head can be persuaded.” Iduna has no idea what that means, but it sounds promising, if a little foreboding. 

He continues, “I recommend we remove all magic, even memories of magic to be safe.” 

“What?!” Iduna demands, standing up and stumbling backwards to pull Anna away from the hands of this troll who wants to mess with her daughter’s _mind._

“Iduna!” Agnarr snaps. “Let him help her!” 

“Help her?” Iduna says, cradling Anna against her heart. “Help her, by removing the memories of something she loves? Playing in the snow with Elsa is Anna’s favorite thing in the world, you know that.” She directs that last barb towards her husband, who is eyeing her like he hopes to snatch their daughter out of her arms and give her to this memory-thief. 

“It is the best way to remove the cold,” the troll insists. “I’ll take the magic, but leave the fun.”

Iduna chokes out a wholly inappropriate laugh. “I don’t even know what that means,” she says. “What is that supposed to mean for Elsa? Is she supposed to spend the rest of her life lying to her sister about who she is?” There’s a familiar crackling noise and she looks to see Elsa curled in on herself in shame, ice forming under her feet. Iduna has long practice in holding back her rage, in this land that fears magic and seeks control over nature, but like Elsa’s ice, her anger is bursting at the seams now. 

“If it helps Anna, I’ll do anything,” Elsa says quietly. 

“You’ve done enough,” Agnarr responds, and it’s harsher and more biting than any of Elsa’s cold winds. 

“Now, now, that’s not necessary,” the old troll starts to say, but Iduna has had enough. 

“If any of you had any sense, you would know that Elsa’s magic is not a curse, it is a _gift_.” Everyone stares at her, from Agnarr’s bewildered anger to the wide-eyed circle of silent trolls to Elsa herself, who stands up a little straighter. She is every inch a queen, and every inch a mother. “Now, can you help Anna without removing her memories, or should I seek another solution?” If it comes to it, Iduna will take a horse, go north, and scream at the spirits keeping her from her birthplace until someone comes to help, never mind that none of her attempts to get through have ever worked before. 

“I will try,” the old troll says grudgingly. “But I am not sure it will be as effective.” 

“Do it,” Iduna orders, setting Anna down gently on the ground beside him. 

“Can you— can you show me?” Elsa asks, her voice as fragile as a snowdrop. “I can feel the magic in her, I think, I just don’t know what to do about it.” 

The old troll regards her seriously for a moment. “An excellent idea,” he says. Elsa comes close. For a moment, Agnarr shifts as though he wants to pull her away from Anna, but Iduna shoots him a quelling look and he subsides. They have a silent conversation as the troll coaches Elsa. 

_You better be right about this_ , her husband’s narrowed eyes say. He purses his lips. _I will never forgive you if she dies for the sake of a few memories of snowflakes._

Iduna lifts her chin. _I know I am right._

There’s a giggle from Elsa and they both turn to look at their daughters. Elsa levitates a glowing snowflake she seems to have pulled from Anna’s head, and a rosy glow begins to return to Anna’s cheeks. 

“You did it, Elsa,” Iduna breathes, sinking to her knees and gathering both girls into their arms. She presses her lips to Anna’s temple and she shifts and grumbles, the way she always does in her sleep. 

“Well done,” the troll says. “Listen to me, Elsa. Your power will only grow. There is beauty in it, but also great danger. You must learn to control it. Fear will be your enemy.” As he speaks, he shows an image of Elsa, grown-up, that nearly brings tears to Iduna’s eyes at the thought of the adult her baby will be. Then the image flashes red and spiky, scaring Elsa. Iduna puts a protective arm around her daughter’s shoulders and glares at the troll.

“If fear is her enemy, why on earth would you try to _scare_ her while talking about it?” she says witheringly. 

“We'll protect her,” Agnarr says, and Iduna looks at him with rising hope. “She can learn to control it. I'm sure. Until then, we'll lock the gates. We'll reduce the staff. We will limit her contact with people, and keep her powers hidden from everyone.” He glances at the sleeping child and purses his lips again. “Except Anna, I suppose,” he concedes reluctantly.

Iduna takes a deep breath and decides to save that argument for later. She has been around this man for more time than she had with her parents, and she trusts him as much as she is capable of trust. But. She is never unaware that her safety is entirely reliant on his continued silence about her identity. All it would take is one angry comment where others can hear, and Arendelle will turn against her. 

Instead, she turns to Elsa, who is listening to the adults debate her future like she’s not even there and starting to crumble in on herself again. 

“Elsa,” she says softly. “We know that you would never hurt Anna on purpose. I’ve seen you playing with Anna, and you never have a hard time making ice unicorns or snowmen or whatever it is your sister is excited about next. You already have the control, I know you do. 

“We all have a harder time controlling our actions when we have strong emotions. That’s something everyone learns as they grow up. For you, it’s even more important that you learn, because your magic responds to your feelings. But everyone learns how, and I know you can, too.” 

Elsa nods, seriously, and then yawns, wide. Agnarr thanks the old troll for his help, and together they bundle their sleepy daughters onto the horses and head back to the castle. Back home. They ride in silence. 

When the girls are safely tucked into the bed and they have retired to their own room, Agnarr finally speaks. “I thought myself a brave man,” he says, ”but fatherhood has made a coward of me.” 

Iduna says nothing, and hopes. 

“I have been scared for Elsa since that first flurry above her cradle, do you remember? This is not a land that loves magic, and she will be queen one day. But lately I’ve been scared _of_ her. A man should not be scared of his own child, but the things she can do… it’s unnatural.” 

Iduna cannot stifle a small noise of disapproval. It’s clear to her that Elsa’s magic is as natural as the seasons, as natural as the salamanders and wind spirits that were her childhood playmates. 

“I didn’t mean that,” he says hurriedly. “I’m not my father, Iduna, you know that.” Agnarr still worships his father’s memory, but as Elsa has grown up, he has been willing to acknowledge that his father may have been a little unreasonable on the subject of magic. 

“Just don’t let Elsa hear you say anything like that,” Iduna warns. “She has enough to deal with.”

“You really think Elsa can control her magic?” 

“I’m sure Elsa can learn how to control her feelings. Can you?”

“Of course I can,” he snaps. “We just need to teach her to keep it inside, not let all those feelings out, or we’ll all wake up buried to our necks in snow when she’s a hormonal teenager. Can you even imagine?” 

“Elsa a teenager? Now _that_ scares me,” Iduna jokes before turning serious. “Keeping all her feelings bottled up, telling her not to feel her feelings… that is not what I want for our daughter. It’s not healthy. And… I don’t think it will work.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, pacing beside their window. She fixes him with a stern stare. 

“Remember how afraid you were of horses, once?” she asks. He flinches, glancing towards the door like _that’s_ the part of the conversation most important to keep confidential. “How did you get over it?”

She can see him remembering, that long summer grieving his father and preparing to take the crown, how they had watched the horses frolic in their pasture from the safety of the other side of the fence until Jonas, one of the grooms, overcame his own intimidation of the young monarch, and patiently coached him on how to behave around horses, how to avoid spooking them, how to take care of them properly. 

“What if you had decided to shut down the stable and keep horses far away from you until you weren’t afraid of them anymore? If you’d stayed in the high tower and told yourself every day that you were not going to be afraid of horses anymore?” she asks, trying to keep her tone gentle. 

“I doubt I ever would have made it to horseback,” he admits, with some effort.

“That’s what I mean,” she says. “When, in the history of time, has telling someone not to be afraid ever made them less afraid? We have to _show_ Elsa that she has nothing to fear. Shutting her up and keeping her away from people will only increase her fears, it will do nothing to help her control them.” 

“But she _does_ have something to fear,” Agnarr insists. “She could have killed Anna today.” 

Iduna shivers. “And horses _do_ kill, sometimes,” she retorts. She holds up a hand to forestall his immediate protest. “I know,” she says. “Agnarr, do you think I am not afraid? Parenthood is terrifying. I’m afraid of Anna slipping down one of those huge staircases and breaking her neck. I’m afraid of Elsa choking on a cherry pit. I’m afraid of people being cruel to Elsa because she’s different, and I’m afraid of people taking advantage of Anna’s easy trust. I’m afraid _all the time_ , Agnarr, and that’s how I know Elsa can do this.”

She can feel the tears hot behind her eyes. “Family— community— that is what makes us strong. Not the absence of fear, or the suppressing of fear, but the people we know we can rely on to face our fears with us. That is what I had, once, and that is what I want for our daughters.” 

The bed shifts as he sits down next to her and takes her hand. “I want that for you, too,” he says. “I want to be that for you.” He pauses, and his voice gets quieter, almost shy. “You are that for me. You give me courage and strength every day.” Gently, he kisses the tips of her fingers. 

“You won’t close the gates, then?” she says. Her voice breaks, a little. “I have had more than enough barriers keeping me away from people, I do not want that for my children.” 

“The gates will stay open,” he agrees. “If it doesn’t work, if it seems unsafe for Elsa or for any of the people she comes in contact with… well, we can make another decision then.” 

She squeezes his hand, unwilling to thank him for meeting this low bar, but still wanting to acknowledge how hard it is to change one’s mind.

(Once Elsa's started to improve, she decides, she will talk with him about ways to shift the public perception of magic in Arendelle, so that when the time comes for Elsa to take the throne, she will be able to do so openly, as her full self. Iduna knows what it is to be a queen with a frightening secret, and if she has her way, her daughters will never know that weight.)

They climb into bed together, drawing the thick warm blankets up and snuggling in. She misses her home fiercely, but she does have to admit to a fondness for this mattress. And, she supposes she must admit, for this man. 

“Who knows?” he whispers against the pillow. “The dome isolating the Enchanted Forest is magical. Maybe one day, if she’s learned to control her magic, we can take Elsa north, and she will be able to break through, and we can make peace with your people.” 

It’s a beautiful thought. Iduna falls asleep dreaming of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from e.e. cummings: 
> 
> love is the voice under all silences,  
> the hope which has no opposite in fear,  
> the strength so strong mere force is feebleness:  
> the truth more first than sun more last than star


End file.
